


A darklit place or your place or my place

by KeriArentikai



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom!Stiles, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Sexting, Top!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeriArentikai/pseuds/KeriArentikai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man pushed off the wall and moved towards Stiles, the look in his eyes openly predatory.  He came up behind Stiles and he felt like a hard, warm wall at his back.  The man was barely dancing, but he followed Stiles' body as much as he needed to in order to keep close.  He felt a hand on his waist and breath on his neck, and he involuntarily moved his head to the side to allow the man what access to his neck he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Belatedly changed the title, sorry for any confusion. It's now from Paralyzer, by Finger Eleven.

He was on his fourth gin and tonic and the slight unease Stiles always experienced when getting to the club was gone. Sober, it was an intimidating mass of people in a dark room; tipsy, he could feel the energy in the crowd, in the thrumming of the music, in the dark corners that hid their contents from public sight.

He loved it. He came here every Friday night, although since the baby came, Scott more often than not stayed home. For Stiles, it was a night off from everything, even from being himself. During the week he was serious and studious, and he'd given up on the idea of relationships years ago. But in this space he could be anything he wanted - he could make out with someone without consequences, he could dance like an idiot, he could dance like he was sexy. When he was in the packed group of people, all connected by the beat of the dance music blasting from the speakers, he felt at one with the world and free.

He didn't even look like himself on Friday nights. Instead of his usual sloppy jeans and plaid shirts, he wore tight jeans and shirts that showed a lot more skin or a lot more muscle definition than he would wear anywhere else. Along with his usual clothes, he left behind his usual demeanor - here, he was confident and took risks, wasn't constantly self-deprecating and hiding behind walls or words.

So when he was letting himself move with the throbbing bass of the music and noticed a guy watching him, he looked back without embarrassment. It wasn't a gay club, not exactly - he more frequently hooked up with women here - but it was in a gay-friendly neighborhood and all kinds of people came here to dance.

The man looked dangerous. He didn't look happy to be here, his scowl was impressive. He was wearing a leather jacket, open over what looked like a white tank top, and it didn't hide the glory of his physique. He wasn't too muscled, not in a gross way, but he looked bulky and powerful. He looked like the kind of guy who rode a motorcycle and who you wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley. But, oh lord was he hot.

The man looked away from Stiles, pretending he hadn't been caught staring. Stiles let it go. He danced by himself and with a few people, but his awareness of the man was constant. He imagined he could feel his eyes following him and it made him feel empowered rather than self-conscious. 

Finally, the man pushed off the wall and moved towards Stiles, the look in his eyes openly predatory. He came up behind Stiles and he felt like a hard, warm wall at his back. The man was barely dancing, but he followed Stiles' body as much as he needed to in order to keep close. He felt a hand on his waist and breath on his neck, and he involuntarily moved his head to the side to allow the man what access to his neck he wanted. The man moved in closer, fully pressing his front against Stiles' back, and it was hard to tell given the tightness of the man's jeans, but he was pretty sure the man was at least partially hard. Now that he thought about it, he had been getting there himself, and the feeling of the man's dick pressed up against his ass is enough to make his jeans even more uncomfortably tight than they had been before.

Stiles had made out with people in this club before. Really, making out with people on the dance floor was pretty much all the non-solo sexual activity he participated in these days. But there was something about the intensity of this man that was making the sexual tension veer out of control. He wanted to do things that were not appropriate in public.

As if the man was reading his thoughts, his hand moved from Stiles' waist to his front, hiking up his shirt just a tiny bit (it was quite a short shirt) so that he could touch the skin directly above the waistband of Stiles' pants. The crowd was pressed in all around them, sure, but they were still in the middle of a club. But Stiles was too caught up in it so he didn't stop the man as he pressed teeth into Stiles' neck and brushed across the front of his pants, still pressing into him from behind. 

After his first tentative pass, he grew bolder and moulded his hand around the outline of Stiles' dick. Stiles gasped, the sound unnoticeable in the din. He turned around before the man could start seriously trying to get him off in front of all these people. This brought their fronts into contact, though, and the faint suggestion of their cocks rubbing together, even muted by so much sturdy fabric, was enough to make Stiles clutch at the man's shoulder.

It wasn't a whisper, it was a shout - necessary to be heard over the music - but it felt intimate in his ear when the man said: "Come home with me."

He wanted to, desperately. But this version of Stiles only existed in the confines of his club. If he left, he would turn into a pumpkin or, at least, the weekday version of himself, not at all the person the man saw in front of him now.

There was only one solution. Stiles had never done it before, despite it being suggested to him a couple of times. He let himself rub up against the man for a few more seconds, enjoying the feeling, before stepping back and moving away. The man looked displeased, but then Stiles cocked his eyebrow at him and the man took a step forward, following. Stiles squirmed through people on the way to the bathroom and he was sure, he was just sure, the man was right behind him. 

The noise was muted in the bathroom, but it certainly wasn't quiet. There were a couple of stalls and a few urinals and the bathroom was pretty much as gross as you'd expect it to be. The idea of fooling around in here had never appealed to Stiles, it seemed seedy to him, but right now he couldn't have cared less.

He dragged the man into a stall, not caring that an older man at a urinal smirked at them. It was cramped inside the stall, and it would be obvious to anyone walking by what was going on, but he pushed the man against the wall and kissed him. It was a fierce kiss and Stiles wasn't planning for it to last long. He waited just long enough for the man to grab his ass and press their trapped cocks together to break it and drop to his knees. 

The predatory gleam in the man's eyes returned and he quickly undid his pants, groaning in relief when he freed his cock from the constricting jeans. And from nothing else, Stiles noticed - the man had been going commando all night. Stiles wasted no time, sucking the head of the man's cock into his mouth, exploring with his tongue and lips. The man started grunting out faint encouragement: _yeah_ and _oh_ and _god_ and _yeah_ again. 

With a detached part of his mind, Stiles could hear the bathroom door open and close as people came in and out, and there were obviously two people in the stall and they weren't being quiet but Stiles kept going anyway. He started taking the man down his throat and he brought up one hand to touch his balls, to grip the base of his cock, to explore. He couldn't have said how long it lasted, but when the man reached his hand down, grabbed his hair and gave a sharp tug, he moaned around his cock and the man shot off, his come pooling in Stiles' mouth until he swallowed as quickly as he could. When Stiles looked up, the man's head was tilted back and his eyes were closed, so Stiles went in for another few licks. 

Then he was being hauled to his feet and turned around and pressed forward, so that he had to use his arms to hold himself up against the other wall of the stall. The man moved forward, pressing up against him like he had on the dance floor, and the man's hand returned to his waistband, but this time the hand undid his pants and pushed down his pants and underwear to his mid-thigh. The man wrapped one arm tightly around his body, restricting his movement, especially since his legs were trapped by the pants hanging just above his knees. He could feel the man's cock against his ass, warm and wet, as the man started stripping his cock relentlessly, not teasing or encouraging but forcing an orgasm out of him, remarkably quickly.

Stiles cleaned up as fast as he could, since quarters this close when not actually having sex were pretty awkward. And his cheeks burned when they left the stall and some guy stared at them for a little while before he walked out. 

They washed their hands and then the man was behind him again - he apparently really liked that - licking at his neck. This time he could see the man in the mirror and, god, it was even better being able to see his hotness while feeling it at the same time.

"What's your name?" the man asked him. 

"Stiles," he said, and it felt oddly like they were cuddling in the afterglow, even though they were both fully clothed and standing.

"I'm Derek."

Suddenly, Stiles was struck with the idea that he might never see this guy again. He might not be able to leave the club with him or exchange phone numbers, but he wanted... something.

"I'll be here next week," Stiles said, and he knew he'd be tense all week, waiting to see Derek again.

"Then I will be, too," Derek replied. He bit Stiles one last time on the neck, hard enough to leave a mark, before leaving.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I wrote more. And I seem to always veer into some kind of angst, sorry. Only one more part after this, for real, and I hope I write it soon but no promises.

He didn't really think the man - Derek - would be there again. Not really. Keeping expectations low is the best way to avoid disappointment. That didn't mean that Stiles didn't think about him throughout the week. He did. A lot.

He went to classes, went to work, did his laundry and fed his cat like he always did. And maybe he jerked off to images and memories rather than PornHub, but that happened sometimes. He didn't tell Scott about what had happened. Not because he was ashamed or anything, but because he wasn't quite sure what to tell him.

Stiles took three shots of tequila at home before calling a cab to the club. No matter how many times he told himself not to expect to see the guy there, his heart raced as he walked in. He went straight to the bar and ordered tequila and orange juice - best to stick to one liquor for the night. Despite his intentions, he couldn't help looking around for Derek. He didn't see him.

Maybe he stood at the bar drinking longer than he usually did before going out onto the dance floor, but he told himself that he'd had a hard week and it was okay to have an off night. Just as he was psyching himself up to take the last sip of his drink and go dance, he felt a hand on his waist and the presence of someone behind him. 

"Hey," Derek whispered/yelled. 

Only now that he was here could Stiles let himself fully appreciate how much he had wanted to see him again. He wondered for a moment about whether or not he should find the casual familiarity strange, but he'd had this guy's dick in his mouth a week ago, a hand on a waist was pretty non-intimate in comparison. He flushed, but he could blame it on the alcohol. Derek moved beside him to lean up against the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Derek gestured at Stiles' empty glass. He looked as gorgeous and rough as he had last week. Stiles just nodded. It was awkward to talk over the music, even if it was slightly less overwhelming by the bar. Really, it was only the quantity of tequila he had already consumed that had him doing anything other than running for the hills due to his awkwardness. But this was Friday-night Stiles, so he could handle a conversation bound to be awkward. Because, really, what could they talk about? And were they really going to just shout at each other over the music?

"How was your week?" Derek asked, and his expression told Stiles that he hadn't really thought this through either.

"Not as good as the weekend was," Stiles yelled back. "Raincheck on the drink? Let's go dance."

This time when they danced the sexual tension was simmering rather than frantic - less to prove, maybe, or less concern that the other would lose interest before the night was done. 

And when Derek asked Stiles to come home with him for a second time, he refused. But they found their way to an alley outside and, while Stiles was aware of the risk of actually getting arrested for public indecency, he didn't care. He couldn't care about anything other than Derek's mouth around his cock, Derek's hand jerking himself off, the finger Derek pushed inside of him, the spectacular resulting orgasm.

There was less to clean up, this time - Derek had swallowed and Derek's come was only one of many stains on the ground of the alley. They zipped themselves back up and Derek's hands moved back to Stiles' body, under his shirt, moving slowly against his skin. Stiles was pretty sure he had more marks on his neck, mostly from when they were still dancing, and he made a mental note to go buy some more turtlenecks. 

"At least give me your number," Derek whispered in his ear - really whispered this time, because they could hear the heavy bass coming from the club but Stiles had been able to hear the wet sounds of Derek's mouth and Derek had been able to hear the whines and moans Stiles couldn't hold back. 

Stiles could think of a million reasons to say no, but he was still a bit dazed from the sex and Derek was so warm and sweaty against him. 

"Okay."

____

 

When Derek texted him Tuesday night, after a really long day which included two midterms, just a simple _'hello, how's it going'_ , Stiles put the phone down. He did four shots of rum in quick succession and took off his slouchy clothes before he even thought about replying.

 _had a shitty day, working on unwinding. you?_ he replied.

_Just got home... Unwinding how?_

_thinking of taking a long, hot shower. maybe getting off_

_Oh god, now I'm hard and I'm still in my work clothes_

_you should take those off_

By this point, Stiles had taken off his boxers and was stroking his hand slowly up and down his dick. He thought for a minute, then took a picture, making sure that nothing was visible in the picture except for his body. He sent it to Derek.

_You're so hot. I've been thinking about fucking you since I met you._

_i jerk off thinking about you fucking me. thinking about it now. really want you to_

He got a picture from Derek, pretty similar to the one he had sent, and thinking about Derek, wherever he was, thinking about him during the week made him come despite his intention to go slow.

_I can't wait to see you again. I'll give you what you want_

_i'm going to hold you to that. now i actually need to go take that shower, made a bit of a mess_

_Me too. See you Friday?_

_yup. see you then_

___

 

That Friday they barely stayed in the club at all - within a few minutes Stiles had said no yet again to Derek asking him to go home with him, but he compromised by saying they can go to a motel if Derek wants.

Derek looked conflicted for a bit, unhappy, but then Stiles slid his hand up Derek's thigh at the bar and Derek dragged him to a motel a couple of blocks away. In the seedy motel room, he fucked Stiles so hard that Stiles almost cried when he came. They could actually cuddle in the afterglow, here in a bed, but after a few minutes Stiles called a cab and left Derek, still naked in bed, with a kiss.

____

Derek started texting him during the day every once in a while. Stiles wondered whether that was a strategy to make their texting not completely about sex. It worked - there was no way to effectively sext when he was running between classes and shifts at Starbucks. 

Stiles was never comfortable replying to those texts and sometimes he didn't reply at all.

___

 

That Friday, Derek didn't bother to ask Stiles to go home with him. They danced for an hour or so, bodies close and sinuous, before going to the same motel as the week before. This time the sex wasn't hard and fast, not exactly. Derek kept making eye contact and kissing him and it felt like Derek wanted to make it more than sex. Stiles tried to resist, tried to keep it hot and impersonal, stay Friday-night Stiles, but it was impossible. They were going slow and steady and sweet when they both came.

This time it was Derek who didn't stay for the afterglow. After one last, long and desperate kiss, Derek got out of the bed and started getting dressed.

"So, who is she? Wife, girlfriend?" he asked, his back turned to Stiles and his voice hard in a way Stiles hadn't heard it before.

"What?"

"I'm not doing this any more," Derek told him. And, yes, in retrospect tonight had all felt like goodbye.

"You think I'm cheating on someone with you?" Stiles sounded incredulous - he was incredulous, he'd never cheated on anyone in his life. It was completely out of character for Stiles, who could admit loyalty was one of his defining traits, for better or for worse. But, of course, Derek didn't know that. Stiles hadn't let him.

"I'm not an idiot. At least give me credit for that." Derek was fully dressed now, and he moved to the door, pausing only to say, "Goodbye, Stiles."

Stiles wanted to run after him, but it had taken him too long to realize what was going on, so he was still naked and couldn't exactly leave the room. He lay back in the bed and sighed. He wasn't cheating on anyone with Derek, of course, but he hadn't been treating Derek any better than if he had been. Stiles didn't owe Derek anything, he knew that, this had never been anything other than a nightclub flirtation. But it still made him ache a little bit to think that he'd never see him again.

____

He tried texting Derek a couple of times, asking to meet up somewhere, but he got no response. He went back to the club on Friday nights for a few more weeks, but he just couldn't have fun dancing the way he used to - whether he wanted to or not, a big part of him was always looking for Derek, always hoping he'd come back. 

He didn't. So Stiles started to just stay home, wondering if Derek had gone to some other club, found someone else to dance with and fuck.

___

Late one Friday night, when Stiles was sitting on the couch, watching dumb television and drinking his sixth beer, there was a knock on his door. He looked through the peephole and saw Scott holding a six-pack.

"Dude, what are you doing here?" Stiles asked, as they sat down on the couch and Scott opened one of his beers. "Shouldn't you be at home with the baby?"

"Allison decided you needed an intervention more than she needed sleep tonight."

"I don't need an intervention. I'm fine."

Scott raised his eyebrow.

"So I'm not going out to clubs any more, so what? I'm twenty-four, it was time to stop that anyway. You stopped going," Stiles pointed out.

"I have a kid!"

"Thanks for bragging."

"Seriously, what happened?"

Stiles let his head fall back on the couch. "I dunno. There was a guy."

"Of course there was a guy." At Stiles' poisonous glare, Scott shut up and made a gesture of surrender. "So you liked him?" Scott asked, after a few moments of silence.

"I... I don't know. Maybe I could have. But I didn't really know him that well." Stiles stopped to think before continuing. "We fooled around for a while and I think he wanted more, but, like, he didn't know me either! At all! I mean, he never even saw me in my normal clothes. I mean, maybe I want to start thinking about settling down. And picking up random guys in clubs isn't how to do that."

"That's bullshit," Scott replied.

"What? I thought you'd be thrilled I've finally admitted I wouldn't mind joining the significant-other club."

"Well that part's fine, but the part about not meeting someone at a bar is dumb. How do you think people are supposed to meet potential dates? Did you forget how Allison and I met?"

"You're saying I should follow in your footsteps and go on AdultFriendFinder?"

Scott smacked Stiles upside the head. "No, I'm saying you should try to see if you do actually like this guy you're obviously pining over."

"I'm not pining!"

"You're pining."

"Well, he wasn't replying to my texts, anyway." Stiles looked balefully over at his phone, sitting innocently on the table, despite how much time Stiles had spent wanting it to chime with a new message.

Scott snatched up the phone. "I'm texting him! 'Hi random guy, this is Stiles, please come love me!'" 

"You don't even know his name," Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott continued to play with Stiles' phone.

"Hmm... maybe it was this Derek? The one who sent you a dick shot?"

"Give me that!" Stiles shouted, as he wrestled Scott for control of the phone. "Fine, fine, I'll text him."

Scott made himself scarce, went to the bathroom or to raid the fridge or something, while Stiles composed what he hoped didn't sound like a drunk text.

 _hey, this is stiles._ (in case he had deleted Stiles' number) _you're probably out tonight but i was thinking about you. want to go out on a date sometime or come over to my place or something?_

Okay, yeah, it was a drunk text, and it sounded like a horrible hybrid of a please-take-me-back message and a booty call, but he closed his eyes and pressed send.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Guess I had this one on the brain. I'll probably come back and edit/proofread it within the next couple of days. Sorry for any errors in the meanwhile. And I definitely wouldn't have continued with this if not for everyone's encouragement - I really appreciate it.

Stiles hadn't actually expected Derek to answer. He figured he'd mostly just be punishing himself further by giving himself a reason to start staring at his phone again.

So when a reply came within a minute, he was surprised.

 _Okay. Motel in an hour?_

Stiles really wanted to say yes. He wanted to go back to how things were. But he was also smart enough to know that, if he agreed, this would be at best a one-more-time thing or, at worst, something Derek would continue to do while feeling shitty about it.

 _come over to my place instead?_ he replied, and he opened another beer as his fingers shook.

_Address?_

He texted back his address and ran into the kitchen to find Scott.

"Dude, you have to go!"

"What? I barely started my beer! We never get to drink together any more and I came over here to cheer you up. You're not allowed to kick me out," Scott pouted.

"Fine. You want to be here when Derek shows up for some sex?"

A look of horror passed over Scott's face. Then he considered, and said: "Well, I do kind of want to meet him."

"Oh my god, no!" Stiles started pushing him towards the door.

"Okay, okay! But you owe me some bro time."

"Absolutely." Stiles hugged him. "Thanks, man. I appreciate your pep talk. But if this guy breaks my heart, it's totally your fault."

After Scott left, Stiles ran around frantically cleaning up. He thought about changing out of his Captain America t-shirt and jeans, but figured he might as well not - it's not like the framed comic book posters were coming down off the walls.

Then he thought for a minute about taking down all of his decoration and hiding it in a closet, but his closet was already pretty full hiding his laundry, so he didn't.

After he'd done all he could, he sat back down on the couch. He drank more beer, channel-surfed and fidgeted, feeling like he might vibrate right out of his skin with nerves, until he heard a knock on the door.

Before he could even finish appreciating the sight of Derek in front of him, beautiful not only because of his tight shirt, leather jacket and stubble but also because Stiles had really thought he'd never see him again, Derek was on him. His lips were warm and Stiles could taste gin on his tongue. 

Stiles managed to detach long enough to close the door but Derek pressed him against the wall as soon as the latch clicked into place. 

"Good to see you, too," Stiles gasped, as Derek sucked and licked at his neck. 

"Missed this," Derek murmured, almost to himself, when Stiles slipped his hands underneath Derek's jacket and shirt to grab around his ribs.

"You know, I'm really not cheating on anyone," Stiles told Derek as he pushed his leather jacket down his arms.

"Don't care tonight," Derek replied, pressing him harder against the wall and moving his leg between Stiles' own.

Stiles thought that didn't sound very good, that maybe they ought to stop and talk about it, but he could feel Derek growing against his leg as he moved and figured they'd have time to talk after.

"Bedroom," Stiles said, because he was pretty sure that Derek wouldn't let him up off the wall without a good reason. 

"Yeah," Derek agreed, and he let Stiles lead him through the apartment. They got rid of their clothes in a hurry and Stiles pushed Derek to a sitting position on the bed. Then he dropped to his knees between Derek's legs and licked a line up Derek's cock.

"I missed you," Stiles said, looking straight ahead of him.

"Are... are you talking to my dick?" Derek asked, laughter in his voice.

"Shut up, we're having a moment down here."

Derek did laugh, then, before cutting off with a gasp as Stiles took him in his mouth. Stiles thought about the first time he had done this, kneeling on the floor of a dirty bathroom rather than the (relatively) clean floor of his own bedroom, and really, it was kind of weird that he had felt more comfortable the first time. But he pushed the thought aside as he moved his lips and tongue up and down Derek's cock, occasionally looking up to see Derek staring down at him with intense eyes.

"God, you look like you were made for this," Derek breathed. It should have been a ridiculous thing to say, but Stiles felt like it was true - he wasn't sure about much that was going on here, but even after just a few times with Derek, he knew just what to do with his cock. His mouth belonged around it. He took Derek deeper and swallowed around him, before Derek jerked further into his throat and then pushed him off. 

"Get up here," he said, and he pulled Stiles down so that he was on his knees on the bed straddling Derek's lap, pressing his cock against Derek's insanely muscled stomach. Derek cupped his wide, strong hand around Stiles' head and moved him forward into a kiss as his other hand ran down his back, slowly - oh so slowly - approaching his ass. When Derek's fingers finally pressed against his hole, Stiles moaned and bucked forward.

"You want to fuck me?" Stiles asked, breathlessly.

"You know I do," Derek growled back. Stiles leaned over awkwardly - the only thing preventing him from falling off of Derek's lap was Derek's tight hold on him - and opened the drawer to his nightstand, taking out a bottle of lube. He opened it and handed it to Derek as he settled back on his lap. He started on Derek's neck as he waited for Derek to get some lube on his fingers. He didn't care at all that it was kind of cold when Derek pressed against his pucker again, slowly entering just a bit. It was a bad angle for Derek to really fingerfuck him, but as Derek teased and played with his ass using two fingers, he definitely didn't care. He loved the feeling of Derek all along his front while he was pushing in from behind.

Then Derek brought his other hand around and Stiles thought his eyes would roll back in his head as more fingers joined in - two fingers pulling outward from different directions, three pushing in at the same time, four rubbing and teasing without entering, more fingers than he could count. Stiles realized he had been rocking back and forth against Derek's stomach for a while, a line of precome sticky on his skin, when he felt the low pulling that preceded an orgasm.

"Derek, Derek, I'm gonna..." Derek pushed four fingers in and at least one of them found an awesome spot, and Stiles would have sworn he saw stars as he came, spurting against Derek's skin.

He slumped forward and Derek bit and sucked what was clearly going to be a hickey on his neck after whispering: "So fucking hot."

Still tingling everywhere, Stiles climbed off of Derek to grab a condom from the drawer. He gave it to him then lay down on his front, his energy temporarily drained. Then Derek's body was over him and pushing into him and he made an embarrassing sound somewhere between a groan and a squeak.

"You okay?" Derek paused to ask.

"Yeah, yeah, that was a good noise, keep going. Sorry for the - ungh - confusion." 

Stiles felt good all over, pliant and turned on and relaxed and hot all at once, as Derek moved in and out, picking up speed. He couldn't get hard again - not yet - but Derek driving his cock right into his prostate, over and over, made him feel like he was having a constant, low-level orgasm for an unbelievably long time. 

Derek called out his name when he came.

It was several minutes before Stiles was willing to move at all. Only the feeling of come drying on his back, transferred from Derek' stomach when he was fucking him, drove him to finally raise his head. 

"I'm gonna just hop into the shower really quick, okay?"

Derek grunted back, clearly not ready to be verbal again yet.

Stiles washed his body and dried off, still buzzing with afterglow, then lay back down beside Derek, up against his side.

"Can I..." Derek gestured to his stomach.

"Yeah, of course, there's a towel on the rack, second door on the left." Stiles wasn't even embarrassed when Derek caught him staring as he got up and out of bed. He just smiled and Derek smiled back.

He got under the covers when Derek was showering, so he was almost asleep when he came back, the towel tied around his waist. Derek hesitated in the doorway.

"I... should go?" It was clearly a question and not a statement, so Stiles answered by lifting up the covers next to him, making a space for Derek in the bed.

Derek dropped the towel and joined him. Stiles leaned over and kissed him, soft and sleepy. 

"I was thinking maybe we could do breakfast or something tomorrow, if you're free," Stiles said. Derek's smile was almost blinding and his body was warm beside Stiles' as they fell asleep.

____

They were at the trendy breakfast place a few blocks from Stiles' apartment, Derek still in last night's clothes, with the exception of a plain t-shirt Stiles had lent him.

When Stiles told him he was still working on his degree in library science and had a part-time job at Starbucks, Derek didn't seem at all put off.

"So, what do you do when you're not being all hot in dance clubs, picking up guys?" Stiles asked him. He realized he had been so worried about his own day-to-day life in this whole thing with Derek that he hadn't really thought about what Derek did - was he an artist? A music promoter? A professional motorcycle racer? Not even those professions seemed cool enough to suit Derek. He took a sip of his orange juice, bracing himself.

"I'm an insurance adjuster," Derek answered.

Stiles got orange juice up his nose and it fucking hurt. But Derek's hand on his shoulder made him feel a little better.


End file.
